//------------------------------//
// My Little Plague-Bearer 
// Story: The Sour Grapes Chronicles 
// by The Incredible Werekitty 
//------------------------------//

	The day seemed to crawl by for Sour grapes. She dared not leave the bunkhouse for fear she might carry a contagion to the rest of Ponyville, and yet she really wished she could. On a basic level she felt the Earth Pony desire to get out and do something, and she tried her best to forget it… and the fact that poor little Earshot was upstairs deathly ill.

She counted herself very fortunate to have two of the best healers (in her humble opinion) in Equestria under the roof at the moment. They were taking turns in watching him and discussing treatments and causes of the mysterious malady. It was astonishing how well the two were working together. Crabapple and Zecora were about as dissimilar as one could imagine two healers to be, and yet they just accepted the differences of approach and powered on. She did count her lucky stars that it had not been Dr. Coldhoof who came to assist rather than Crabapple. The stallion was brilliant, clever and competent, but as cold as his stethoscope. There was no telling how that unicorn would have reacted to Zecora.

She crawled out of the bed in the spare Bunkhouse room where she had, at times, managed to get up to five minutes of sleep between fits of worry. The small pile of donated reading material sat on the dresser mostly untouched. It was hard to distract herself, she kept re-reading entire paragraphs three or four times or growing impatient with the plot. That was an anomaly for the self-professed bibliophile. She had thought about asking Zecora or Crabapple for some manner of sleeping aid but felt it was best not to distract them from more important things than her own insomnia.

They had a young colt to care for, and they did not need her underhoof, unless it was to help with bathing, or something else. But the sheer amount of worry she had for Earshot showed how much the little fellow had grown on her. He was like the little brother she would have had, if her Mom could still bear children. She wasn’t quite sure what Firestormer would be, but he had something of a “brotherly” feel to him, too. Maybe Queenie’s designation of “brother I never wanted” would work, though he could be quite supportive and even entertaining at times. He just had a similar level of tact as Rainbow Dash. Maybe just the least little bit more than the polychromatic maned pegasus, but not much.

Grapes clopped downstairs to get some food, and was considering warm milk. She was certain by this point that if Earshot’s condition was contagious then everypony in the building had it and so they mingled fairly freely. The Storm Riders were scattered about the main floor reading or playing games to keep themselves occupied. She noted Crabapple in the armchair dozing with a book on his chest, no doubt he fell asleep while cross-referencing exotic diseases while Zecora tended to their patient. She went to the icebox and began rooting through the various leftovers but became aware of a faint noise. It reminded her of what you heard when Vinyl Scratch was playing music in her home. All you really got was the beat moving through the walls. 

Her curiosity piqued, she focused a little more on the sound. It was an irregular thumping with bursts of rhythm. She couldn’t help but wonder where it was coming from. The mare walked slowly out of the kitchen area into the living space, following it, chasing it down with a slow walk, then she noticed the handle to the cellar trap door was rattling in time to the beat. Her horn flickered to life and opened the passage that permitted her to go downstairs.

Grapes went into the basement to find Squall working out with the bucking bag with a level of manic energy that she had not seen in the older stallion. She remembered how he looked fighting with Blue Streak, his body filled with a graceful brutality that belied the terrifying ruthlessness that his experience earned. This… there was no grace in it. No real focus or reason other than to punish the canvass tube with his hooves over and over again. His body was gleaming with a sheen of sweat (normal horse sweat, thank heavens) as his wrapped forehooves slammed into the bag hard and fast. He seemed to have worn himself out doing so, to the point where when he stopped he actually clutched at the bag, hugging it to steady himself as he sucked in air in greedy gulps.

“What’s eating you?” Grapes asked.

He clung to the bag a moment longer before looking over at her and releasing it. The older pony walked to where a jug of water waited for him on a table and took a deep drink right from the spout.

“Sorry, Grapes. Didn’t hear you come down there. I’ve been busy… NOT thinking about many things.”

“Could you explain, please?” Grapes asked.

“He’s up there. Earshot, that is. He’s laying in his bed, sick from Celestia-knows-what and there’s bloody squat I can do about it.” He put the jug down a little harder than he needed to but continued. “Decades of experiences from across this world and I’m as big of a loss as the professionals up there. One of my teammate is dying and I can’t do a blessed thing about it.”

He moved the jug to the side and picked up a piece of paper that had been under it, showing it to her.

“J’a know what this is, lass? It’s a kindly worded letter from that colt’s family. His mother and his father wrote me on how proud they are that somepony so used to the unusual has taken personal responsibility for their son. A personal letter, mind you. Two ponies to one. Miss Wishful Thinking told me she could think of no other daylighter to be a role model for him, and Mister Positive Outlook has encouraged me to show his son how to defend himself should the need arise, and to make certain he knows right from wrong… even if I have to be a terrible warning myself. Like when I was arrested.” Summer Squall chuckled mirthlessly and sat down on the sofa, his body sagging under it’s own weight. Grapes had seen this elderly pony look vital enough to fight manticores bare-hoofed and now… now he looked so… old. “They trust me with their son, Grapes. His entire family trusts me, but most importantly his parents trust me to be his guardian. I’ve never been responsible for much more than meself all this time. Yes, as a Captain you have your ship and yer crew but that and the crew is an extension of yourself. This… this is so much more personal.” 

“You’re feeling helpless,” Grapes said, with a nod. “Most of your experience has been with something you could, to some extent, physically fight. Instead we’re having to hope that Earshot can pull through with the help of two good equines who are experts in their field. However, there is something you can do. You can let him know you’re here for him. Let him know that you’re rooting for him, and that he should not give up, because you are not going to give up on him. He could be dying, but he’s not dead. He could still pull through. And our support, and hope, and being there for him may not help him make it, but it is possible that it could. And when he does pull through, we’ll have to be there to help him get better, and regain his full health. If he doesn’t, we will have to be there for each other, and we’ll have to offer all the support we can to his family, but we won’t be thinking in those terms, yet. To do so, now, would amount to giving up, and I’m not ready to give up.”

“You’re right. I can’t give up on him. Not now,” Summer Squall raised his head and looked upwards at the ceiling (and more or less Earshot’s direction on the top floor) “The lad certainly wouldn’t give up on us. It’s not in his nature to give up easily. He’s three feet of pony and six feet of heart. If it comes down to will alone he’ll fight this every step of the way.”

“So it behooves us to help in every way we can,” Grapes said with a stern nod. “It’s the least we can do, now, because I’m sure the hard work will come later.”

Redline had become THE go-between for Sour Grapes and company. His Snow Skimmer was capable of rapid transit of ponies and materials across the gap between Ponyville and the Vineyard’s bunkhouse. Also he felt safe approaching the bunkhouse in his old Haz-Mat suit. It had been quite some time since he wore it with any seriousness. It was one of the few mementos from his times at CSFGU that he treasured, granted it had a thaumic dampening rating of 12 and so reduced his own horn-output. He had to use the digit-manipulator arms prototype he had created for the Lyra job to handle anything outside the suit. They were surprisingly useful and he would have to thank Lyra Heartstrings for asking him to build them. 

He glanced over at where his little sister pulled a small sleigh across the yard from Sour Grapes’ house. She looked sharp in her own yellow suit and he smiled. He might play it fast and loose with his own safety at times but he never took Moondust’s for granted. She was surprisingly grown-up in her observations despite still a child. She had offered to bring items from Sour Grapes’ home to the Bunkhouse in case they were short things like food, clothing, medicine and through the glass window on the porch Grapes gave her a short list of things that were well within her reach. And now she dutifully and cheerfully brought them to the door. Redline for a moment mentally “tried on” a future as a nurse or a doctor on the filly, and then chuckled. It was too early in her life to shoehorn her into an occupation. He would be happiest that whatever she becomes it would be something that made HER happy.

He left her in charge of supplying… supplies and headed into town. The ponies of Ponyville watched him as he peeled out of the suit and went into the hospital where he got the results of the tests from Dr. Coldhoof. So far they were inconclusive but they had yet to try all of their tests. On the way back to his sleigh the town dentist approached him and handed a file from her office. Earshot had just visited earlier in the month and she had taken X-rays and wrote up a fresh file on him. She had heard from Cheerilee that he had been stricken seriously ill and thought that any medical information on the strange little pony was better than none. Redline graciously accepted the file, re donned his suit and revving up the engine returned to the Vineyard… unaware that from the shadows he had been observed the entire time.

The two files were happily and yet disappointedly accepted by Crabapple who poured through them and shared them with Zecora. 

“Nothing… not a trace of anything that would explain this condition.” he growled at each page. “Red cells, normal. Platelets normal. Sugar levels on the high side but no more for child his age during the holidays. Other than his body acting like it’s fighting off a major infection there’s nothing truly ABnormal about this. Damnation! If I were a religious stallion I’d be shouting out ‘Give me a sign!’ right now.”

Zecora calmly flipped through the pages from Minuette’s office and nodded sagely. “The dentist says dear Earshot was perfectly well, but his current illness, not even she could foretell.”

“That’s easy for you to say. Really. I can’t rhyme worth beans,” Crabapple managed to half-joke before putting the folder down. “But seriously. I appreciate you putting up with a cranky old pony like me like this. It’s good to see somepony else willing to put themselves at risk for a foal’s sake. That and your herbal treatments, while not curing him, are at least helping to alleviate some of his symptoms.” He stretched slowly, pops and cracks coming from his joints before looking across at all of the jars and bundles of herbs on the table between them. “This is making me feel as old as I act. If it weren’t for Coldhoof still running tests out there and you in here with me I’d probably feel useless,” the green and gray pony confessed to the zebra.

“No pony’s efforts are without use. I am just glad that we could call a truce. Not many doctors, with their logical airs would have given much credence to my wares,” Zecora said with a nod. “You fooled me naught, by the way. Even with your mane of gray. You are far too nimble, and far too spry. You can’t be much older than I.”

“Well. As far as I can tell we have him stabilized. Thank Celestia for small miracles. Should we should draw straws to see who gets the night watch?”

Sour Grapes cleared her throat noisily to catch their attention. 

“I’m more than happy to do it. Worry’s been keeping me up nights, anyhow,” Grapes said with a huge sigh.

Sour Grapes changed Earshot’s fouled sheets, and after putting them into a large bag for washing later, settled into the large comfortable armchair in Earshot’s room. It was no different than her being in the spare room (now occupied by Crabapple and Zecora), only this time she felt more in control. She could read entire pages of the books before checking on him. The close proximity to the suffering colt was comforting to her, that should he need her she was right there to help. Grapes felt she was beginning to understand what it must be to be a Storm Rider. Yes, the events around you seemed huge, but at least you were THERE to act upon them even if in small ways.

The little clock on his dresser ticked the seconds away, into minutes, and minutes into hours. The window showed a beautiful view of the sky turning various colors until it grew dark in the twilight time and the moon began to rise over the horizon. She stared at it a moment, admiring it’s beauty and wondering if Earshot chose this room just for the view of the rising sun and moon. She then became aware of the pressure in her abdomen. The urgent pressure indicating a need to relive one’s bladder or suffer the consequences. She glanced down at Earshot’s now empty chamberpot then guiltily at the foal in his bed. Modesty informed her that while a natural process, doing her business in his presence was a social faux pas. Even in Ponyville there were “Privacy Hedges” in locations with public defecation facilities. She didn’t want to leave the room but… Well she would only be down the hall for a moment or two. If trouble arose she would be able to get back rapidly. 

She huffed to herself and trotted out the door to the washroom where a spare chamberpot had been stashed and took the opportunity to make good use of it. Once relieved she slid it into a corner where it wouldn’t be accidentally upset and quietly returned to Earshot’s room… and stopped. 

The door was closed. 

She did NOT close the door when she left. She deliberately left it open to keep an ear on his laboured breathing or hear any faint cry for help. This didn’t give her a bad feeling but there was a definite wrongness about this. She approached silently, felt a cool draft coming from under the door, and from the other side she heard a faint sobbing. 

“I’m so sorry…” the voice said, it’s cracking tone sounding young and female. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I never… I… oh Celestia help me this isn’t what I WANTED!”

Sour Grapes opened the door; being surprisingly light on her hooves can be an asset. She came up, silently, behind the sobbing pegasus, leaned closed and said in a very ominous voice: “What in Tartarus are YOU doing here?”

One thing about pegasi was that when they were surprised, they could REALLY jump very high. Sour Grapes was ALMOST impressed at how Skyhook had managed to clear the room and flatten herself into the far corner on top of Earshot’s dresser. She stared down wild-eyed at the mare like some manner of fluffy gargoyle and swallowed deeply.

“Well?” Grapes asked, looking at her impassively. “It’s more than obvious that you’ve got a guilty conscience, and they do say confession can be good for the soul.”

“I… I’m…” She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath before crawling down from her perch. “He’s really sick… isn’t he?”

“In both senses of the word, yes,” Grapes grumbled. “He is both genuinely sick, and seriously ill…” Grapes seemed to do some mental calculations then crossed the room in a flash, eyes glaring into Skyhook’s own. “What. Did. You. Do. You. Little. Piece. Of. SHITE!?”

“It wasn’t supposed to BE like this!” she said, her rear legs buckling so her rear half now rested on her knees. “You gotta believe me! I didn’t want him to be like… like THIS!”

“What. Did. You. Give. Him?” Grapes asked, obviously wanting to do something to her, but knowing that any physical harm brought to Skyhook could very well be blamed on Grapes, and not on Skyhook’s stupidity.

The Night Pony in the bed next to them groaned pitifully, making Skyhook stare at him a moment before bowing her head in such shame it nearly touched the floor.

“The other night… when I kissed him… I was just… I mean...” she trailed off mumbling.

“I thought that seemed… unusually affectionate of you. Spit. It. OUT, Skyhook, or so help me, I will get permission from your parents to pluck out your feathers and use them for dusters,” Grapes growled.

“Cl… Cloppox,” she whimpered before looking up at her accuser. Sour Grapes could tell the tears were genuine, the remorse was real but then again so was her anger at the filly in front of her. “I had Cloppox over the holiday and thought… He shouldn’t be sick like THIS! It’s a foal’s sickness! We all got shots! He… he should have just gotten itchy and dizzy and… and…”

“It’s a foal’s sickness NOW... Oh buck me… I forgot the fall quarterlies... At least we won’t have to worry about carrying some unknown plague to the populace of Ponyville. That’s a relief. But you, deliberately, exposed a tribe of pony that hasn’t been out in the world for over a thousand years, to a disease that he, OBVIOUSLY, doesn’t have the built-up immunity to! You’ll be lucky to get community service for this, you little idiot. You could very well be sentenced to spend the rest of your childhood in Altai-Traz for ponyslaughter.”

“I didn’t KNOW! It was supposed to be funny. It was supposed to be a joke.” she sobbed. “I thought he was… like… like me.” 

Her voice trailed off again, a terrible ironic lesson sinking in past the layers of bigotry that had been laid by pro-pegasus tribalism. Grapes could practically hear the realisation that Earshot and other ponies weren’t all that different from herself finally waking up in that pea-sized brain of hers. Just the timing was really bad.

“A joke. Kid, you have a, very literally, sick sense of humor. You did this as a joke, huh? You want to know what the funniest thing is, about all this? This is the part that will make you laugh. If he gets better, if he recovers all of his faculties, that little pony would still be willing to call you a FRIEND,” Grapes said bluntly. “And you’re the last pony that deserves Earshot’s friendship, in my not-so-humble opinion.”

“I know,” she croaked, her gaze returning to the floor. “If there was anything I could do to take this back… but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Since it’s highly probable that everypony here has had Cloppox, I’m sure we’ll be more than happy to get out and be able to do things for ourselves. When Doctor Crabapple wakes up I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to know what’s going on with Earshot. Your parents live in Cloudsdale, right?” Grapes uttered, as she gathered up the soiled sheets. “Who’ve you been staying with, during your sojourn with the ground-bound?”

“M… My godfather Coldhoof.” she sniffled. “He said I’d have to fend for myself tonight because he was processing samples from a very sick bat pony. That’s how I found out it all went bad.”

“Oh, the irony… Sweetheart, we’re going to see your Godfather, tomorrow, and send a message to your parents, detailing exactly what you did, and I’m going to ask them, politely, to turn you over to my tender mercies,” Grapes said with that sweet, sweet tone that was pretty darned scary. “It’s also said that suffering is good for the soul and, honey, by the time I’m through with you, you’re going to be a bucking saint.”

“Yes m’m.”

“In the meantime,” Grapes said, then ponykinetically shoved the wad of soiled sheets into Skyhook’s hooves. “You’re on laundry duty. You get to see, first-hoof, the ancient symptoms of Cloppox.”

Skyhook clutched the oversized bag of soiled sheets in her forehooves, the unmistakable funk of fewmets blending with the terrible vinegar smell of his unnatural sweat-discharge assaulting her nose. She closed her eyes and nodded, not saying a word because she knew that this would be the least she deserved at this particular time. 

When Skyhook got back, Grapes handed her a sealed envelope. 

“Do me a favor and take this to Doctor Coldhoof. This is telling him to check for Clopox in Earshot’s samples. And it details your complicity in Earshot catching said Clopox, and the request to have your parents put you into my care for a bit of small-area community service,” Grapes said. “He’s your Godfather. He should know.”

“Yes m’m,” she said quietly. It was odd seeing the brash and outspoken filly acting so submissive, but considering what she did to Earshot it did make sense that all the bluster had left her sails. She took the envelope and left via the front porch, flying off into the moonlit night. It only took her an hour to return, and when she landed she had the most haunted expression: eyes wide and nearly expressionless as she walked into the bunkhouse.

“Godfather told me to thank you for this ‘unknown quantity’ and he will adjust his tests accordingly,” she swallowed deeply and continued. “He also says to let you know that he is extremely disappointed in me and that he took time to show me old medical journal illustrations and photos of what Clopox can do to a pony who isn’t immunised.”

“Looked awfully familiar, didn’t it?” Grapes said with a smirk. “Like I said, it’s a foals disease, now. Once upon a time, though, it was obviously a lot worse. Also very fatal. Want to know something else that is often said, Skyhook? It’s one of my mother’s favorite sayings.”

“What is it?”

“‘Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it’,” Grapes quoted.

“I’ve heard that before…” she whispered. 

“Mom always said that when referring to Grandma Pave,” Grapes observed. “Let’s just say your little clique of pegasi supremacists aren’t the only ones who are tribalists. Just glad we have an idea of what’s going on. I am partially responsible for this, as is Redline… Stupid caffeinated calamity…”

“What… I’m sorry but what exactly IS the ‘Caffeinated Calamity’?”

“Get comfy, kid, it’s a long story,” Grapes said, and told the story of how a stray pot of tea caused crazy shenanigans one day, that last Autumn. The story helped pass the time, and made Skyhook giggle a bit. There was a pause for the young mare to check on the sheets, but the story had just ended when Crabapple came into Earshot’s room.

“‘Morning.” he said scratching his unruly mane “I’m trusting Earshot didn’t get any worse last night… who the blazes is this?”

“This is Skyhook. Skyhook this is Doctor Crabapple. Crabby, this young mare gave Earshot Cloppox,” Grapes said quite casually.

“Cloppox?” Crabapple said quietly before frowning. “Cloppox. You know… I DO remember this from my lessons. How before immunisation came along, there were tons of diseases that were potentially lethal. My… word… It was only about two or three hundred years ago that we began doing that. This colt’s tribe has been in isolation for more than three times that.”

“Eeyup,” Grapes said, with a nod. “And they’re wanting to come out of isolation. Obviously… they need some preparation. So, in some kind of backward way, Skyhook, you may have saved the Night Pony from extinction. Doesn’t let you off the hook, though.”

Skyhook seemed to shrink under the gaze of the two adults even though Dr. Crabapple didn’t seem upset, just distracted.

“You… I recognise you now. You’re Coldhoof’s foal… the one in his care I mean. His niece or cousin or…”

“Goddaughter. Yes sir.”

“That’s right. Goddaughter,” he paused a long moment before sighing. “Then you SHOULD have known better. I can see now what you did. Thought it would be cute to make the new ‘kid’ sick, am I right?”

“Yes sir.”

“Sour Grapes, does her Godfather know about this?”

“Sure does, Crabby. He even took the time to show her some wonderful pictures from medical journals depicting pre-immunization period ponies with Cloppox,” Grapes replied.

“Good fellow. We might wind up needing those if this is exactly what it is. If I know him he’s probably running the tests as we speak.” He glanced out of the window where the sun was still rising, casting golden rays across the landscape. “I should ask Zecora if she’s had her shots too. Probably has but better safe than sorry.”

“I did get my shot, please to not fret, and I have not started itching yet. Zebras are nomadic, something they say with pride. If they all lived in one place, they may well have died,” Zecora observed with a slight chuckle. “Knowing exactly what is the disease will make treating its symptoms a bit of a breeze.”

“Yeah. But that’s the symptoms. Colt’s gonna still have to do the hard work. It’s a little late to give him an immunisation shot so all we can do is try to tilt the odds in his favor as his body figures out how to fight this off. Oh my land, this is gonna be another long shift for everypony.”

“At least we’re not all confined to the house,” Grapes observed with a smirk. “That should be a relief. C’mon, Skyhook. We’re making breakfast. Then taking a nap. Because of... reasons. Very good reasons… That I will think up after I’ve had a nap.”

It is said that a rumor can get halfway around the world before a substantiated truth can get it’s boots on. By the time breakfast was done, there were a lot of cold stares at Skyhook as she worked nervously at the kitchen counter. 

“And I thought Earshot was the only one with amazing hearing,” Grapes said tiredly.

“The little featherbrain wasn’t exactly quiet when she came in this morning,” Firestormer said bluntly. “It’s hard to sleep when you know one of your own is on death’s door, it takes very little to get you up.”

“Were we in Avalanche Valley I would personally take her on a tour of the undergallery… possibly even make an exhibit of her,” Queenie said icily. “It depends on what mood struck me at the time.”

“Glad we’re in Ponyville, then. Seriously, Skyhook, here, came of her own accord, and I’m having her help with Earshot, so she gets a good idea of exactly what she did, by making a stupid assumption. And that’s, really, all she did. She assumed he had gotten the immunization shot. Heck, I probably assumed he had gotten the immunization shot. He works for the government, when he’s not here, and because of the tea incident, I totally forgot the fall quarterlies,” Grapes said, sternly. “I will have no more talk of any sort of disproportionate retribution. Skyhook’s going to be doing a LOT of community service, true, but without her, Crabby and Zecora would still be fumbling around in the dark. Now we’re going to take a nap, because we were both up all night watching Earshot, and my brain is about to shut down.”

“Do you need help getting up to the spare room,” Stormfront asked “or can you manage on your own?”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks, Stormy. C’mon, kid. Not trusting some of these guys to act rationally, right now, ‘cause… reasons…” Grapes said, going toward the stairs.

Skyhook followed Grapes dutifully, casting only a single glance backwards and the accusing eyes that followed.

“They all see Earshot as something like a little brother,” Grapes explained, as they entered the spare room, and she set things up to where the opening of the door would wake her up, first. “And the fact there was a deliberate cause for his being so sick isn’t sitting too well with them.” Grapes curled up now that things were set up to her liking. “There. This should reduce the possibility for nasty surprises for you.”

The filly lowered herself to the rug on the floor and curled up. Her face was to the door but she looked over at where Grapes was settling in.

“Thank you.” she said with uncharacteristic softness. “I know I don’t really deserve this but… thank you.”

Sour Grapes was uncertain how long she slept, she felt so wrung out with deprivation and emotional rollercoastering that oblivion took her the moment her head had hit the pillow. She only came to when the front door of the Bunkhouse slammed shut and Doc Crabapple knocked on her door.

“Hey! Cousin! Coldhoof just sent us the results. Your little bat-pony really IS sick with the Cloppox. We may not be out of the woods but at least we can see the sun through the branches!”

“He is rated with Cloppox, Level Six. That’s bad but we still have some tricks.”

“Darn right, Zecora. You start brewing and I’ll see what I got in my own magic bag.”

“Good. Okay. Time for caring for a colt with ancient style Cloppox, lesson two…” Grapes said, yawning. “Shall we, Skyhook?”

Skyhook nodded silently, the knock at the door no doubt awoke her immediately with concerns of being dragged off to be plucked, then tarred and feathered with her own feathers.

“Earshot probably needs a bath, and clean sheets,” Grapes said, as they went down the hallway. “Going to be a busy day, kiddo. You up for it?”

“Yes. Yes I am…” Skyhook said with a little more firmness. “This is my fault. I have to.. do… something. Anything.”

“And I’m going to keep the Riders from taking their worry out on your hide. I’m one that thinks that stupidity doesn’t deserve a death sentence,” Grapes said as they started their day.

“They… they really hate me. Don’t they?”

“Hm… I wouldn’t say that, exactly. See, me and Squall know the whole story, because I’m helping Squall navigate the prickly path of guardianship. It can be like being an employer. All they’ve heard is… Probably Earshot mentioning that you were being particularly… tribalist. Especially when you failed a test or something,” Grapes explained. “They don’t know you, they know Earshot, and consider him as close as a brother. So they’re painting the event with you as a tribalist. Not as some stupid kid who thought it’d be fun to prank their classmate. Most other foals your age would thank you for the vacation. But then, most other foals your age has had the proper immunization.”

“They… a brother? I never realised...”

“Do you even know what the Storm Riders are?” Grapes asked.

“Not really. Earshot said they do government work. He said it’s weather management stuff, nothing that other pegasi couldn’t do,” she paused looking at Grapes’ expression and shrinking slightly. “There’s more to it that what he told us, isn’t there?”

“Oh.. Yeah. Earshot doesn’t brag, but the Storm Riders DO take care of the stuff that other pegasi can’t. Hurricanes, tornadoes, avalanches, and volcanoes,” Grapes explained. “Even forest fires so big that they kick up their own weather patterns. Being in that kind of danger forges strong bonds. That’s why Earshot and his team are so close.”

“And… what did... does he do?”

“Good girl. Anyway, you did notice those bat-like features, hm? He does have form of echolocation, and really really good hearing. So he’s their low-visibility expert. They’re all specialists in their fields. Stormfront handles tornadoes and thunderstorms; Firestormer handles all fire-related weather patterns; Queenie handles all cold-weather situations; Sirocco handles all sandstorms, and wind-related situations; and Squall handles any storms that are born on the sea,” Grapes said, in a rather lecturing tone. She could almost hear Skyhook’s paradigm shifting without a clutch.

The filly groaned and thumped her head against the bedpost on purpose. 

“I’m an idiot…”

“Thankfully, at this stage, it is a reversible condition,” Grapes quipped with a smile. “But admitting that you do have a problem is the first step. Hope he pulls through, though… Not quite sure how Princess Celestia would react to losing a member of her Royal Equestrian Rogue Storm Emergency Response Team… much less Princess Luna to losing one of her night ponies… Kind of busy to send either of them a letter.”

“P-Princess Celestia… and Luna? *squeek*”

“They are called the Royal Equestrian Rogue Storm Emergency Response Team for a reason,” Grapes said with a shrug. “Hmm.. If the worst does happen, I wouldn’t recommend that you be banished to the moon, though… After all, you are reforming into a tolerable young mare. You might even be likeable.”

“Th-thank you.”

“Thinking more along the lines of your former gang-mates,” Grapes said thoughtfully. “After all, they are spreading ignorance, and lies, and not even bothering to study their own history… Might do the pegasi community good to get rid of that little cancer cell, before it spreads.”

“In... in the movies there’s something called ‘Turning Crown’s evidence’. Is that real?”

“You saying you want to testify against them, Skyhook?” Grapes asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If it helps?” she admitted

“That’s very brave of you. And, honestly, Equestria could use fewer ponies like those featherbrains. I know it’s a slur, but… really, what else can you call pegasi with attitudes like that? Especially since they don’t even bother to study their own history and culture,” Grapes said with shaking her head.

“I’m beginning to… see that.”

“Good. Now just have to keep someponies from taking retribution, so the lesson will keep sticking,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “C’mon. Let’s get the worst part of our day over with. This honey-sweat is nasty…”

Sour Grapes took a bit of perverse pleasure in slowly drawing back Earshot’s sheet for Skyhook. The faint “shrrrrrippp” sound along was disgusting enough, but the sight of it tipped it in the favor of the “You did this” camp for the filly. Fortunately the chamberpot was empty and more than large enough for Skyhook’s case of the heaves. When she was finally running on empty she got to hooves and unsteadily assisted Sour Grapes in carrying him to the bathroom and cleansing the goo from his body.

Grapes added the herbs that Zecora supplied to the bath water, and she and Skyhook cleaned him up. Grapes sent Skyhook to change the sheets, while she finished getting the honey-sweat off Earshot. She was pleased how easy it was to get Skyhook to obey. No doubt guilt was a great motivator, and there may have been a little bit of trying to prove to herself that she wasn’t as bad as the Storm Riders no doubt perceived her right now.

Grapes brought back into his room, after having dried him off, looking to see if Skyhook had finished changed the sheets. Fortunately, Sour Grapes had left a pile of the old sheets in Earshot’s closet for easy access… although by the looks of it the filly had never changed her own bed in her life. She was still trying to work out how to stuff the pillow into it’s pillowcase. Grapes smiled at her mother’s sage observation “The only reason we have chins… is so we may put on pillow cases by ourselves.”

“There’s one reason why we have chins, kiddo,” Grapes quoted as she lay him on the bed, straightening the sheets. “It’s so we can put the pillowcases on, by ourselves.”

“What? oh...” Skyhook said as Sour Grapes ponykinetically put the pillow case under her chin and demonstrated the technique that required no magic. “That… that actually makes so much sense.”

“Common sense isn’t so common, sometimes,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “It’s still a useful skill to have.”

“Do you think the others hate me less today?”

“I don’t know. We’ll see,” Grapes said quietly. “Maybe if I explain why I’m not being vengeful. That’s why I’ve been keeping an eye on you. See I’m trying to do is what’s right, not what would feel good. It’d feel good to rip you a new one, but it would not be right.”

“R.. Rip me a new what?”

“I’ve never been sure, to be honest,” Grapes said thoughtfully. “It would be interesting to find out, sometime.”

Skyhook squeaked and nodded slowly. Feeling that she had made Skyhook’s position with herself and Earshot’s friends crystal clear Grapes put her hoof on her back and nudged her towards the door.

“Now it’s time to clean the chamber pots. Guess who drew the short straw?” Grapes said with a grin.

“Me?”

“Eeyup,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “I’m sure you’ll do a good job, hon.”

She watched carefully from a distance as Skyhook went door to door collecting the chamber pots from each of the Storm Riders, in turn. The remaining five Riders plus their guests meant Skyhook would be busy for the morning. Plus it made the Storm Riders feel as if Skyhook were being punished for her “crime”, although she did find it in poor taste for Firestormer to make certain that his was full before giving it to her. No doubt she would have to keep an eye on him for retaliatory behavior, then again, he was the most “hot-blooded” of the group. 

She left Skyhook to her current unpleasant task when she heard a knocking at the front door. 

“Wierd. I thought everypony would be staying away from the farm,” Grapes said as she opened the door, and was nearly knocked off of her hooves by what was on the otherside.

"Cutiemark Crusaders Candystripers, YAAAAAY!" 

"No... just... no," Sour Grapes uttered, facehoofing at the sight of three little fillies in candystriper uniforms--obviously made with a LOT of haste at the Carousel Boutique, and most likely without Rarity’s knowledge--on her front porch. "Seriously, if you haven't gotten a cutiemark in nursing, you're not going to get a cutiemark in nursing. Also, have any of you had Cloppox?"

"Sure!" Sweetie Belle said cheerfully

"Yeah!" Scootaloo asserted, with a nod.

"Ah had mine during tha summer," Applebloom stated with a nod.

"Just checking. Also... You would be really really grossed out, because it’s a really old version of Cloppox from before widespread immunization. It’s really gross, and icky,” Grapes explained.

"Oh... um..." 

"Plan B, Cutiemark Crusaders." 

"Right," Sweetie Belle said, then reached into Scootaloo’s saddlebag and pulled out a record and held it up to Grapes. "Then can you play this for him?"

"We heard Earshot likes opera an’ asked tha best musician in town if she had any we could use," Applebloom said with a smile.

“That was nice of you. But… Who, in your opinion, is the best musician in town?" Grapes asked cautiously, taking the record.

All three shouted at the same time: "DJ Pon-3!"

Grapes sighed, and looked at the label. It did indeed have names of operatic songs she did recognise. It also had the term "Old school meets Sonic Symphony" as part of the title.

"... I think I'll save this until he's better able to appreciate this," Grapes said, with a warm smile. “I appreciate the thought, however, but I doubt he’ll feel up to listening to dubstep remixes of opera, just yet. I’m sure he’ll love it when he’s feeling better… Unless Vinyl wants her record back...” The trio certainly looked pleased at this turn when a little nagging detail arose in Grapes’ mind. “Uh… Why aren't you three in school, by the way?”

“Oh…”

“Um…”

“Well…”

“Y’know. Thet’s ex-AKT-ly what Ah’d like t’know.”

The three little fillies turned around to look up into the stern wrinkled face of Granny Smith. Then at Applejack and Big Macintosh who stood behind her as backup.

“In their defence, they were trying to help a sick friend, Granny Smith,” Grapes said, holding up a hoof.

“Noted,” Granny said with a nod before making a motion with her head. “But don’t yew fillies think we ain’t gonna tell yer folks yew wuz playin’ hooky, good reason or none. Now if’n you young’uns hurry you can get to school in time for Cheerilee to give you your homework.”

“Be sure to tell Miss Cheerilee that Skyhook may not be there, because we don’t want her to carry Cloppox back to the school,” Grapes called after Granny. “Okay. Now to have a little chat with some pegasi.”

She went back inside, and stomped on the floor. “Staff meeting, everypony!”

One by one the healthy members of the Storm Riders came to the main room, taking up positions in whatever chairs happened to be available. She noted that nopony talked when they came in, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was out of respect for her as the “leader” of the Vineyard or if it was because Lady Weathervain had them that well trained. She waited until they had settled, then casually gazed at them with a slightly disapproving look, waiting for the fidgets, and small looks of worry.

“I’ve noticed how some of you have been acting toward our guest. Honestly, I can not blame you. Earshot is a good comrade, and like a brother to you all. However, I think something hasn’t been made clear. What happened was a stupid foalish mistake, made from an assumption. And everypony here knows what making assumptions do for you,” Grapes said, as she paced in front of them. “Thing is, she made the assumption that, like every other pony in her class, he had had his shots. She thought he was just like her, in other words. Hardly the thoughts of a tribalist. There was no, and I do mean absolutely no, real malice in her actions. Merely a misplaced plan for a contagion vacation. She came to us of her own accord, bearing the guilt for her actions, and wished to make amends. Had she not, we would not even know that Earshot had Cloppox, and still be searching for exotic diseases. So there is some good to this situation. Also, under my supervision, she is being punished for her actions in the toughest, yet fairest way possible. So there will be no retribution. There will be no taking of vengeance. Are we clear?”

“Are you certain?” Of all the ponies of the group, it was Sirocco who spoke. “I know the punishments of my homeland are somewhat TOO harsh, but I believe that Queenie and Firestormer had some rather interesting suggestions on how to handle Skyhook. Shaving off one’s feathers seems extreme but the concept of the stocks seems reasonable in comparison.”

“What I’m doing is making sure the lesson sticks. Far too many ponies are thinking about vengeance, when they are talking about punishment, but revenge only perpetuates a vicious cycle. Revenge begets resentment, which in turn begets retaliation,” Grapes explained. “The retaliation becomes cause for revenge, and the cycle starts anew. Punishment shouldn’t be about getting back at the one who did you wrong. It should be about the wrongdoer undergoing penance. They should come to understand what they did wrong, then try to do their best to make the lesson stick, then start doing right by those they wronged. 

“That’s why I get so… upset when I read about the oh-so-high-and-mighty unicorn nobility saying that Princess Celestia is ‘soft on crime’. The ones who say that are usually tribalists, and have had stories ‘lovingly’ passed down to them of the ancient unicorn kingdoms where the lower classes were naught but their playthings, and long for a return to those days. Apparently they miss the windigos. Princess Celestia understands the cycle of revenge, resentment, and retaliation, and does her best to prevent it. She makes sure punishment is penance, and not vengeance. The victim of the crime may want vengeance, but most of the time they do leave it to the courts. This is why Equestria has so few crimes, and those that had become criminals come out of the prison system better ponies than they went in.

“That’s what I’m trying to replicate here. It may feel good to get back at her. To do things like shave off her feathers, or lock her in a set of stocks to be humiliated. But ask yourselves this: Will she come out of the experience a better pony than when she went in? If the answer is ‘No, she’ll probably resent the treatment’, then you’re not thinking about punishment and penance. You’re thinking about revenge. What I am doing isn’t what feels good. It isn’t what’s easy. It’s what’s right.”

“Fine,” Queenie said flatly looking disappointed. “Pity… I would have LOVED to have seen mother’s face when she got a letter asking her to send some of the items from the undergallery here.”

“You could send it anyway, making sure it arrives on Springtime Follies Day,” Grapes said with a smirk.

“I suppose that will suffice.” Queenie smirked before looking at Firestormer. “Sour Grapes is being as fair with Skyhook as she has been with us. We can hardly ask for her to have a double-standard, can we?”

“I guess not,” he grumbled before sighing. “At least we know she’s not playing favorites.”

“Not my style, and you know it,” Grapes said with a nod. “I was just… making sure she wasn’t the recipient of some misplaced ire, before the air was cleared. Believe me, she’s getting it full in the face that she did wrong. Having to clean Earshot’s sheets will do that. Also, she’s not my foal, nor is she in my employ. I’d have to explain to both her Godfather, and her parents why she was lacking feathers. Anyway, it’s not like the idea of a forced vacation due to contagious disease never entered any of YOUR minds, during your school years. I could never get away with it, because my Grandpa Grapes was still here. He believed in ‘sweating out’ a disease. So guess what I would have been doing.”

---------------------------------
As they watched him laying there they saw his wings slowly extend then drop to the mattress below them.

*Flop*     

"What was that?" 

"I think it's a wing-boner when you're sick."

Grapes looked at Skyhook and smirked. "That's not very ladylike… but probably accurate. Sweetie Belle must be singing somewhere, not sure what she has to sing about. She’s in as much trouble as Applebloom and Scootaloo.”

“Ever hear of chain-gang songs?” Skyhook asked.

“Oh yeah. Your parents work in a prison, don’t they?”

“Yes they do. It’s how they got a restraining collar so easily. Wait… why would… Hey! Are you saying Earshot has a crush on that unicorn filly?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?” Grapes queried, turning back to Skyhook with a raised eyebrow.

“'Cause… reasons? Um… sorry.. tribal thoughts. Wings and horns and stuff,” Skyhook replied with shifty eyes and scrunchy mouth. 

“Ooooooooh, I seeeeee,” Grapes said with a huge smirking grin.

“Wh-what?”

“You do know I’m related to the Apples, right?” Grapes said with a smirk. “And it’s always hard to lie to an Apple, even an Apple cousin who’s a Grapes. So… Somepony’s got a crush of their own, do they?”

“I-I d-don’t know what you’re…” Skyhook started, blushing furiously.

“Nnnnf… Miss Grapes? What’s going on? I thought I heard… oh heya Skyhook.” Earshot slowly opened his eyes and blinked blearily at the two females next to his bed.    

“Hey Earshot…” Skyhook’s head lowered in an attempt to hide her blush as she spoke quietly. “Um… you smell like vinegar.”

“Yeah.. I do sorta stink, don’t I?” he admitted with a weak chuckle and a cough. “Being sick munches, big time.”

“We’ve been trying to keep you clean as possible, Earshot,” Grapes said with a chuckle. “Anything we can get you while you’re conscious?”

“Something to drink would be nice.” Earshot said touching his throat. “I feel so dry, like old paper.”

“Well you’ve been sweating up a storm. Anything else?” Grapes asked.

“I dunno… something easy to digest. I’m not sure I wanna eat a lot at the moment. Maybe broth? Something like that?”

“Well, broth would also provide much-needed moisture, so that’s a good idea. We’ll be right back. I’m sure some others will come up and see you while you’re awake,” Grapes said, as they left the room.

While Grapes made the morning broth, Earshot was able to talk to Crabapple, and Zecora. They agreed that a conscious patient was preferable to one unable to respond and were doing their best to take advantage of his moment of lucidity, well aware that the illness would get worse before he got better. They came down in time to oversee the broth reach it’s boil and as Zecora gathered some of her concoctions Crabapple rummaged through his bag.. 

“It’s too late to give him anything preventative but I can give him some vitamin pills and a general antibiotic to help him fight this off. The problem lies with the actual fight is going to be all him. Either he wins or he doesn’t.” he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “He’s got a good spirit in him. I’ve learned that from talking to the others. He’s not going to go down easily.”

Zecora smiled and patted him on the back. A wealth of understanding between healers passed in the sharing of the simple gesture and the kind smile that went with it. She then carried a bottle over to the kitchen table and set it next to the broth bowl before going to the cupboard to get a jug and fill it with water.

“So… you mentioned having something that could help the young colt as well, Zecora?” Crabapple asked watching her sprinkle the powder into the water. “What do you have there?”

“A powder made from a brightly colored fruit that when placed in water will reconstitute.” she gave the water a stir with a long wooden spoon, turning it a beautiful shade of orange. “Food for the soul, you know it is good, I believe you would call it 'Comfort food'?"

“I’m all for ‘comfort food’. Right now we’ve got to make sure he gets some comfort from what food we can give him that he can keep down,” Grapes said with a nod.

“I also have some herbs that can mix well with the broth you serve. Cooking will make them taste better than they deserve. They should keep his skin from being itchy, because he may be too weak to be all scritchy.”

Sour Grapes was more than willing to let her include her additives to the broth, although after pouring a bowl full she was cautious enough to tie a dishtowel to the handle of the pot just so the others would think before helping themselves. She added a note to the fridge saying dinner will be ready, soon, and not to touch the broth because it has Zecora’s herbs in it for Earshot.

With Earshot’s meal carried between them, the three returned upstairs where they were greeted by a mostly heartwarming sight. Their little night pony patient was propped up against the headboard, eyes squinched shut as he opened wide for the spoonful of purple goo that Sirocco was feeding him.

“And here is the squirrel returning to his knothole…” 

Earshot made funny faces as he made the effort to force the Smooze down.

“Ahhhhh… guh. This squirrel tastes like wet slimy cardboard.”

“Oh, do not be that way, Earshot. This was after all your own idea,” Sirocco admonished.

“I know. If anything can kill this sickness it’s a dose of Smooze. Good thing Mom sent an extra jar along.”

“When he’s talking about the squirrel, he doesn’t mean he’s eaten squirrel. Right?” Crabapple asked as they entered the room.

“He does digest a wider range of protein than we, normally, do, so it’s possible, but he could be talking about the feeding technique used by Sirocco,” Grapes said with a shrug.

“Just to keep us in the loop,” Zecora said approaching the bed “What exactly would be this goop?”

“This is something from Earshot’s homeland. An edible slime mould they call smooze,” Sirocco explained as Earshot choked down another spoonful. “It’s as nutritious as it is disgusting. And before you ask, it’s mostly harmless. Pinkie Pie consumed nearly a gallon the other day and other than it cleaning her system out she seems to be doing well. It’s good old-fashioned Discomfort Food.”

“I’m hoping I can keep this down right now,” Earshot confessed, taking a sip of Zecora’s instant juice to kill the taste. “The last thing I really remember before this was throwing up… and to be honest I think I need all the nutritionals I can get right now.”

“Well. As long as it’s actually good for you.” Crabapple said cautiously, eyeing the
material in the small jar. “As you can tell we have some other... food for you. It’s important you eat now while you have a little respite.”

“As long as he doesn’t eat too much. One of my outhouses is now a toxic waste dump thanks to Pinkie Pie’s having a serious case of the trots,” Grapes observed with a smirk.

“Ok, ok… I’ve had enough smooze.” he said turning his head away from the next
spoonfull. “Really… a few spoonfuls are all I can handle normally anyways. I don’t want to lose my lunch when it smells so… good.”

“Well you have not eaten anything else for a whole day. Or drank anything,” Sirocco observed, as she changed from spoon-feeding smooze to soup. “I know what dehydration does to a pony… it is not pretty.”

“Horrible way to go, I imagine,” Grapes said with a nod. “Well there’s more downstairs. I can heat it up, when you need it.” Grapes levitated the jar of Smooze, and looked at Crabapple. “Got any thing that you can carry samples? I’m sure you both want some to poke and prod at.”

“Definitely. Yeah I should have some small sample jars that will do the job.” He gave the medication to Earshot and gave him a rare smile. “All right now. Wash these down with your drink and hopefully you’ll keep them down long enough for them to do some good.. otherwise we’re going to have to consider the other end.”

“Other end?” Earshot asked, his ears starting to droop.

“When one opening is closed, another is free. I think the term is ‘suppository’,” Zecora said with a slight chuckle.

Grapes blinked, then gave Crabapple this look. “Seriously?” she deadpanned.

“I know. It seems extreme but if he suffers from a bout of nausea again we’re going to have to be practical about it. Not like I want to do it but I didn’t bring any intravenous materials with me when I got here. But… pills of all kinds are easy to pack and bring along.” the Doctor looked over at Earshot and nodded. “Long story short, I have pills you swallow and some that get put where the sun never shines. For the sake of comfort try to keep what you got down.”

“I’ve got places where the sun never shines in my home town… but I’m very certain I get the jist of what you’re getting at.” Earshot said quietly. “I’ll try to stay calm and focus on digesting properly.”

“Next great ‘keep calm’ poster, right there,” Grapes quipped with a smirk.

Earshot stared at the pills balanced on his hoof before popping them in his mouth and washing them down. Obviously he was determined to get better if for no other reason than to NOT get his medication through a suppository.

“Okay.  And here’s some more broth for you.  Should help you regain some fluids and vitamins and minerals.  If I knew I could cook with Smooze, without it losing its nutritional content, I would,” Grapes said, handing the bowl to Sirocco.  “If for nothing else to make it a bit more palatable.  And in the meantime I’ll go and fix everpony else some dinner”

“Thank you very much, Miss Grapes. For taking care of me and the others.” Earshot said as Sirocco set about spoon-feeding him the broth

“Seems to be a thing I do,” Grapes said, as she headed out the door, casually ponyhandling Skyhook out of the room.  “C’mon, you.  You need food, too, ya silly besmitten pony.”

“BeWHATten? BUT I’m not… oh forget it,” the little pegasus began to protest before giving up. No doubt aware that fighting it would just make it worse.  The rest of the day went relatively smoothly, and soon night descended, with everypony sleeping a bit better for having chatted with Earshot during the day.
----------------------------
The next morning, though, brought a new source of worry.

“Guys? Guys? Can somepony come up here?” Firestormer called downstairs. It was his turn on watch and he was sounding slightly panicked. “I got him some of that special drink of Zecora’s from the icebox and when I went to give him some he’s… He’s not waking up.”

Grapes followed Crabapple and Zecora upstairs, everypony else following after.  The two healers looked him over; Zecora looking the most concerned.

“This stupor is more than it would seem. Earshot has slipped into a fever dream. His will to live battles an enemy most dire, and if he should lose… he could expire,” Zecora solemnly explained.

“Okay.  Firestormer, keep watch here, and call down when you need a break. We’ll go back downstairs.  We don’t all need to hover over him, like this,” Grapes ordered, with a nod.  They all nodded, then went back downstairs.  Skyhook followed, glancing backwards toward Earshot’s room.

The news was given quietely and without drama to the others . On the whole they seemed to accept what was going on. Squall on the other hand got a very disturbed look on his face, lifted the trap door to the Bunkhouse cellar and gave a side glance to the pegasus filly. 

“You. Skyhook. Trot with me, talk with me.”

“Look, I know you’re older and wiser, but I’m still coming along. You’re a rough old salt, and I worry that even you would be lured by the thought of retribution,” Grapes said. “Anyway, in a sense, I’m responsible for her, so…”

“Then shut the door behind you on your way down.” Squall said as he descended the stairs with Skyhook reluctantly following. “This is going to be grown-up talk.”

At the bottom of the stairs he motioned to the large sofa and waited for Skyhook to have a seat. With the filly settled on the couch looking scared as hell, and Grapes standing to the side he walked over to the minibar and pulled a bottle out from behind it and looked at it.

“Been a while since I’ve actually felt like I needed a drink. Don’t get me wrong, I like a belt now and again, sometimes when the mood strikes me I’ll even go on a bender with some friends, but it takes a lot to make me NEED a drink. And right now I need one so bad I’m just going to... put this bottle back down, because the last thing you want in this house is an angry drunk stallion.”

The bottle made a heavy dull “clunk” when he put it back down, but Grapes noticed that Skyhook eyed it very cautiously before looking back at Squall who now paced back and forth. 

“I grew up along the coast in and around boats. Me father always said the ponies of our family had seawater in our veins. This of course also means that the learning curve is sharper and less forgiving. On a boat you tend to be given less slack because your actions can cause trouble for others. So. to keep order, the punishments are usually severe. Anything from swabbing the deck to getting the lash was fair game. Thanks to some skilled healers you may not be able to see them right now but I got the scars to prove I had been on the receiving end of the lash more than once in my lifetime.”

“Sailors have a very unforgiving view of the world, because their world is the ship on which they’re on,”Grapes observed. “It’s a tiny tiny world, and anybody who would put that world in jeopardy is seen as a liability.” Grapes looked at Earshot and smiled a bit. “It may have been mentioned, before, but I read. A lot. My mother was a great believer in history, and hated anypony who tried to revise or whitewash it. So I’ve read a lot of history books.”

“And a good mare she is for doing jest that, Miss Grapes,” Squall agreed. “I have a lifetime of experiences to call upon… and a lifetime of terrible trials that haunt me in the middle of the night. Or the few times I’ve had been struck down with the fever like little Earshot. Terrible things come at you in a Fever Dream. Like the Kraken your greatest struggles and darkest moments rise up from beneath all them happy thoughts you wrap yerself up in and try to drag you down. And the worst part is… even if you won before…” His voice dropped to a hush as he leaned in close. “...You can still lose. And you only need to lose once in there and your will to live is broken.”

“But… Earshot’s just a colt. He’s the same age as me,” Skyhook pleaded, looking up at the old stallion. “Even fighting storms like you said he does, what memory could he possibly be dreaming about that would be so terrible?”

Squall closed his eyes sadly and took a shaky breath.

“You would be surprised, lass. You truly would. That colt has faced things that go beyond the storms you know of. Things that the Princess has asked us to not elaborate upon for fear of the panic it could cause among the public.”

“Things?”

“Aye. Things… with a capital ‘TH’.”

“As you all did, I would presume,” Grapes said with a shrug. “I’m sure you’d tell me about them, if you wanted to share.”

“Aye.” Squall said before looking at the filly and mare in front of him, and smirking grimly.

“T’is a curious thing. All me life I’ve been only responsible for myself or other adult ponies who are usually serving as my crew. Never once was I responsible for anypony who was close to being a child before. Truth be told, I never before thought I COULD be anything like a good father until Earshot came into my life. The lad just… grows on you after a while. At first he was just a fellow Storm-Rider, a tad young perhaps but no less mature when the time called for it. Now that I’ve officially become his legal guardian.. WITH his parents’ blessings, I feel truly responsible for him.” Squall’s face began to twist, his eyes darkening with anger. “It would have been one thing to see him hurt badly or even DIE fighting a storm. He would have gone down doing what he chose to, protecting others, but this... THIS! To be laid low by a mere foal’s illness… How can I go and tell his family that a lad with such a heart so big was laid low by something so small?”

“It’s small, now, Squall. But just a hundred years ago, the ‘foal illness’ was not small at all, and was fatal,” Grapes said. “It’s only through modern medicine, and vaccinations that it’s become something that’s, now, seen as trivial. Earshot’s people haven’t had that benefit, and… Well… If you think about it, this may be a good thing, because they now know that they should get some form of vaccinations, because there are diseases out here that could kill them…”

He closed his eyes and nodded before taking a deep breath, the deep lines that his anger had gouged in his features fading as he returned to a more peaceful yet stern expression.

"You probably think I brought you down here to give you a good hiding, Skyhook. I’ll be honest with you… a large part of me wants to do jest that,” Squall made his point by slamming his left forehoof into the bucking bag with enough force to punch a hole in it, letting the sand run out onto the floor. He looked at Skyhook’s terrified expression and then shook his head. “But that really ain’t why I brought you here. I want you to know that I ain’t gonna stay mad at’cha. What you did was stupid... but doing dumb things is all part of growin’ up.”

“R-really, sir?” Skyhook asked, looking a bit relieved.

“On my word of honor, t’is true. We all make stupid mistakes, some of us more than others. Nothing like screwing up to build character in a pony,” he trailed off a moment then muttered under his breath “Land help me, I certainly pulled some huge boners when I was yer age."

"Uh... Squall? 'Boner' doesn't mean... whatever it meant in the context in which you are using it, now," Grapes said, then pointed to Skyhook. "As evidenced by the giggling filly struggling to not laugh while being lectured."

Grapes sidled up to Squall, and informed him, exactly, what “boner” meant in the modern vernacular​.

He facehoofed and nodded. "And there's a fresh boner for the heap."

"I take it the old meaning was 'blunder', or 'goof-up'?​" Grapes asked.

“Aye. It meant that.”

"I also take it that Skyhook is all too aware of the other, more boorish, current meaning."

"Oh aye. I keep forgetting how far the old mother tongue has been mangled over the years. I still have to watch myself when I have the urge to call Blueblood the gayest pony in Canterlot.​"

"Oh, go ahead. It might be true in every meaning you can think of... Oh look, we set her off again," Grapes uttered, deadpan. “Skyhook, cut it out, you’re going to bust a spleen from laughing so hard.”

"See? I'm still learning. But the message I'm trying to get across is this. You either learn from yer mistakes and go on to make new ones... or you keep on doing the same old stupid ones until they get ye a one-way trip to the boneyard."

“Better than the ‘boner’ yard,” Skyhook giggled. 

Grapes just gave the filly this look.

“Really?” she asked. then blinked. “Oh… great…” she sniggered, trying not to burst into laughter. Then Grapes blushed, her eyes going wide. The mare shook her head, rapidly trying to get some vivid imagery out of her head. “Argh…Curse you brain. Stopit, stopit, stopit, stopit… Mind out of gutter…”

“All right. We’ve had our moment of laughter here. But seriously, Skyhook, we never stop doing dumb things… ever. We do however do less and less dumb things if we’re willing to learn from our mistakes. You savvy?”

“Yes sir,” Skyhook said with a nod.

“Good Lass. Let’s hope this lesson doesn’t go out with the bilgewater,” Squall uttered.

The rest of the day was pretty much uneventful, everypony taking their watches, as the day seemed to move with sluggish slowness. Crabapple had slipped a tube into Earshot’s lungs to drain any liquid that built up in them.  In one of his legs was an IV, leading to a bag of saline solution to help combat more fluid loss from his sweating. Night came, and Grapes and Skyhook too up the evening watch as they had been doing, both mares being unable to sleep, while Earshot was ill.  Now they lounged on the floor, playing cards, as they kept their vigil on the feaverish pony.  It had been a very quiet night, with only the sound of shuffling and moving cards to break the silence.

“LUNA!” Earshot shouted.

“GAH!” Grapes and Skyhook yelped in stereo, the cards flying into the air when they both started from the disruption of the silence.  The pasteboard floated slowly down, as they both stared at the Night Pony who stared back at them.

"I thought..." Earshot gasped blinking and panting as he tried to orient himself. "For a moment I thought the Moon Princess was with me."

"Well she has been back for a while, now.  Was guarding dreams in her portfolio?" Grapes asked, as Skyhook started every card-player's least favorite game.

"Just when I was about to get a full house..." Skyhook grumbled, as she picked up the cards.

"I... I'm not sure. I think so," he said softly. He looked over at Sour Grapes and Skyhook and blinked. "Were you two watching over me all night?"

"I haven't been getting much sleep, when I try, so..." Grapes said with a shrug.  “So yeah.  I have been.”

“Well…  Originally it was for my own protection, because your pals weren’t so happy with me…” Skyhook said.  “But… Well…  Just… seemed the thing to do, y’know?”

"Thank you very much. It really means a lot to me you did that." Earshot paused a moment and looked down at the sticky sweat-soaked sheets and blushed. "I think... I wet my bed."

"You've been sweating like crazy, and have been too weak to use the chamber pot," Grapes said with a shrug.  "Oh, and smelling like vinegar."

"Yeah. It's ok though," Skyhook said scuffing her hoof on the floor. "Miss Grapes found some old sheets and we've been changing and washing them. Everything's cool."

"The words thank-you really don't seem to cover what I'm feeling right now," Earshot said with an embarrassed smile.

"You're a part of my crazy Vineyard family, Earshot,” Grapes said with a nod.  The door to Earshots' room opened wide revealing the sleepy but urgent faces of Crabapple and Zecora.

"What is it? Is everything alright?" Crabapple asked.  Grapes simply smirked, and stepped aside to reveal the rather alert Earshot.

“See for yourself,” she said simply.

Zecora was next to Earshot before Crabapple. Looking into his eyes and checking his forehead she visibly relaxed, giving the others a comforting smile.

“He is awake, and his fever is broke.  Now healing starts, and it won’t be a joke,” Zecora observed.  “Weight he will be needing to regain…  Though from the looks of things that won’t be much of a strain…”

“Thank goodness for holiday binging,” Grapes observed with a chuckle.  “I presume he’ll need some physical therapy to get back some muscle tone, as well?”

“Probably not as much as you’d think,” Crabapple said sticking a thermometer into Earshot’s mouth. “Don’t bite on that. He looks like he was in pretty good shape to begin with… other than the winter-weight he gained. But yeah, all those helpings of pie probably gave him enough extra mass the fever could burn off.”

“Huh’d hyu knuh ih wuh pah?”

“Wild guess, Earshot. You look like the kind of colt who enjoys holiday pie. Try not to talk with the thermometer in there,” Crabapple slipped his stethoscope into his ears and began listening to Earshot’s heart. "Pulse, 110, Temperature 99, 10 breaths per minute… taking for granted his vitals are identical to any normal healthy ten-year-old pegasus colt then I’d agree with Zecora and declare him stable.”

“Kind of a given, since he is a normal ten-year-old pegasus colt,” Grapes said looking a touch cross.  “Just because he’s got bat wings doesn’t mean he’s NOT normal.”

“Until I meet more night ponies and get a good cross section on the vitals of his breed, I can only accept common sense on the matter, Grapes,” he said with a sigh. “And that brings up another detail. Earshot, next time you’re sending mail to them let them know that, like you, they’re all going to have to get their shots. It’s a miracle that you haven’t caught anything this bad before, but luck always runs out. So best to take preventative measures.”

“Shots? You mean like a drink? Because I’m not sure I’m old enough for that.”

“No Earshot. Not those kinds of shots… you’re going to have to take a few needles for your own good,” Crabapple said sternly.

“What he means is that you’re getting vaccinated, like a normal daylighter pony, so you won’t get so sick, ever again,” Grapes explained.  “You… had a very close call, there.  And knowing that you don’t have all your vaccinations…  Well we have Skyhook to thank for that, and for knowing that your people will need the vaccinations, too, before they venture out.”

Earshot smiled at Skyhook and reached out to try to hug her, but settled for patting her on the shoulders when she didn’t reciprocate.

“You mean she may have saved my kindred from a terrible, debilitating demise? Thank you Skyhook… I know being sick like this wasn’t fun at all but… this is the sort of thing we needed to know about. Thank you.”

“Doesn’t excuse her for getting you sick in the first place, but the result will end up being good for the Night Ponies,” Grapes said smiling, then she turned to Skyhook with a smirk.  “Just be glad he pulled through, squirt, he’s got parents, and a big sister.”  She turned back to Crabapple.  “So he’s out of the woods?  No need to hold a vigil, and after he’s got some clean sheets, he should be good for the rest of the night?”

The Earth Pony and Zebra glanced at one another and nodded.

“Well I’d say let him get some bed rest, avoid solids for a day or two to get him back up to speed… oh yes and LOTS of fluids. We had to give them to you intravenously at the end there you were sweating so badly. Other than that… I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”

“Great,” Grapes sighed.  “Skyhook, grab the other set of sheets.  We’ll get those changed, and I can catch up on my lost sleep.  Winter Wrap-Up is supposed to start tomorrow morning, and I outlined a list of things to do, to get it at least ready, for whenever they actually get spring sprung.  Don't know why I bother though. They're always running around like a chicken missing it's head, it's no wonder they're always late.  You stay in bed, Earshot.  You’ve got to recover, still.  Though, Skyhook, if you’re asked to help, do so.  You’d be a good fill-in for Earshot, here, for that at least.  Get Thistle to take a watch to get Earshot his food and fluids.  He’ll be back from his folks’ tomorrow morning.”

The sheets were changed, quickly, leaving Earshot on a nice, fresh-smelling bed.  Zecora brought him up some of the fruit drink she had made the day before to get the Night Pony started on replenishing his fluids.  Skyhook took off to a spare bunk to get in some sleep before being put to work, in the morning.  Grapes trudged back to the actual Farmhouse, barely getting her glasses off, before falling into a deep sleep in her own bed, for the first time in days.